


Bravery is More Than a Star

by jakofafewtrades



Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Fluff., He's always getting the short end of the stick and I just wanted him to be happy, He's like 8 or 9 maybe, I can't have that after Hellbent, I just wanted something good to happen to him, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Nothing in here is canon except that Arthur and Lance exist, Young Arthur, fluff?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-05 16:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16371191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakofafewtrades/pseuds/jakofafewtrades
Summary: Why were they so nice to him?Why did they even care?





	1. The Golden Star

**Author's Note:**

> Literally watched Hellbent, got sad, and was told to write something to get it out of my system. Has nothing whatsoever to do with Hellbent because my friend really wanted me to write something good about Arthur and we all know that ain't coming. 
> 
> The only connection this actually has with the canon Mystery Skulls universe is that Arthur is in it, so be prepared for that. He is the only actual character so far, the others are non-canon and aren't really that important.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and his badge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for Feels I think

_“I-I’m…”_

_What was that? I couldn’t hear you?_

_“I-I’m s-sorry…”_

Arthur flinched as he heard the metal tray clash against the table. Holding himself tighter, his knees pulled in for protection, holding his eyes shut as firmly as possible in a wince. 

Clack.

One eye opened slowly, prompting the other to follow as they only found the endearing face of the woman that placed a white cup before him. There was nothing sinister about her appearance that he could see, except how weird it was seeing a cop with two stars let alone one. He couldn’t remember what that meant, other than what his mother told him about cops. Never trust one. 

“It’s hot chocolate,” the woman said with an affable smile painted wider than Arthur had ever seen. “We didn’t know if you wanted water, but kids do love this stuff.”

Hot chocolate? His eyes remained glossy as he saw the wafting essence of the drink float above the brim. He sniffled.

The scent was… far nicer than he was used to. 

It couldn’t have been for him. They must have told her to bring it to the wrong room or something as a joke. Arthur buried his head further between his knees, closing off his world back to that residual stench he was so accustomed to.

“Come on, you at least need to drink something,” she urged, eyes softening with every syllable. “Please, take it."

_Take it._

An order.

Arthur intuitively jerked forward, grabbing the cup without hesitation. It felt warm against his bare legs, burning even, but that was nothing. He knew worse would come from him not listening when he was told than getting another mark.

It slowly came to his lips as the woman nodded, the sweet aroma of chocolate filling the air around him. The smell was invigorating, inviting even, stronger when it was up close. Another glance was given, confirming that she wanted him to drink, and he sipped when that smile came to again. 

She was… nice. 

Arthur stopped in his enjoyment, lowering the cup below his chin. The milky brown contents swirled around with every movement, sloshing frothy waves up the white walls. The small tuft of air from the woman's nose took him back, reminding him that she wanted him to drink.

It was quickly brought back to his lips as he sipped again, more this time hoping she wouldn’t see the greedy gulp forming. It burned the back of his throat, sending the ever-lasting taste of smoke away, even if it was only for an instant.

It felt safe.

She smiled as the third and fourth gulps passed. Before every drink, the cautious glare would pass, too fixated on every pulse to notice the drops that fell on him. They splashed on the yellowed wife beater, which stuck to the boy’s body as if it were a second layer of skin. The ribbed outline was unsettling to see on a child this young.

“Do you want something to eat?” The boy’s attention rose to her again, this time not faltering to relay back to the half-full cup. “There’s a good burger place down the road, you know. I can send someone to get you something?”

Arthur's stomach stiffened. He knew he hadn’t eaten in a while, for several days really, but It was better to just tense his stomach. It always quelled the rumbling anger within, sending a qualm that others wouldn’t know. It was better that way.

“I mean, there are other places too. I can take you to the vending machine and I’ll let you get anything you want. My treat.” 

It was just… she was _too_ nice.

_That’s how they get you._

His chest tightened into a knot as he suppressed the budding voice. He was always told to be wary of those that do nice things for nothing, but it seemed that all she wanted in return was for him to act. To do something. Anything. 

She bit her nail as she thought on, the amber eyes following every movement. “Are… are you just not hungry?”

_People lie and make you think they care._

Arthur slowly examined her. She didn’t look like she was lying. No hints that she held any ill-will towards him, but that didn’t matter. They always find a way to, and he didn’t want to bother her more than he already had by taking the drink. It was something he didn’t deserve, and he was always good at being a burden.

“How about some new clothes? Or did you want to stay in those?”

He blinked. His clothes? Readjusting himself warily, he looked at his outfit fully knowing she was too. He didn’t care that his clothes were old, or that they didn’t let him put on pants before hauling him off to this place. He was just happy to be away.

_Running away? After all we've done for you?_

He pulled his wife beater over his legs while still holding the cup, struggling to hold back his thoughts as the scent of alcohol and smoke overpowered that of his drink.

“D-did you want a blanket? They’re right over there if you want one.”

Why was she being so nice to him?

_You really think they'd care about a mistake like you out there?_

Arthur’s breath turned to thin wisps as he heard that voice. It was stronger this time as if it were still with him. 

_No one'll treat you better than we did._

In that instant, the fleeting warmth the cup provided fell with a twitch. His eyes widened as he realized what he did, instinctively sending him pulsing backward into the bed as the ceramic smashed. Recoiling at the sound, he put his arms up, waiting for retaliation.

“Shit,” she murmured, bending over to where the cup had broken. It fractured into a myriad of pieces, the white slivers drowning in a sea of light brown. Placing the larger pieces of ceramic on the table, she bunched up the napkins she brought with into a wad. She swished them around vigorously, scooping up every stray shard to ensure no one got hurt until she heard that sniffle. 

_One less little shit in the world if you just left our lives for good._

Glancing up on the bed, she saw the startled eyes widen from underneath the yellow crests of hair. He was shivering worse than a puppy left in the storm, tears grazing above the dark bags underneath his eyes. She resisted the urge to physically comfort him as her heart dropped, seeing that flinch as she got closer. 

Instead, she spoke as softly as she could, doing her best to be as comforting as possible, "hey. Hey, don't worry. It was just an accident. You're not hurt or anything right?" 

It was only an accident, and the young boy looked as if he was going to keel over from fright. She could hear the bedsprings trembling louder once her jaw involuntary dropped. The report said many things, but she didn't believe anyone could do something like that until she saw the mosaic of cuts and burns on his arms.

They did that to a child… 

The tray passed through the slit in the door, taken by another officer. Nothing changed as it left the room.

“Don't worry, all right? You’ll be safe here.” She gave him the most reassuring look she could. “No bad person is going to get you ever again, I’ll make sure of that myself.”

_The world'd be better off without you._

Arthur ignored her consoling words as he forced another ragged breath. Both his arms and head retreated below the sockets in his shirt as he wrapped himself into a ball under the thin fabric, weakly wiping at his eyes after each sniffle.

"I-I’m s-sorry.”

_Awh, did’ye hear that, Guin? He said he’s sorry._

She paused as she heard the boy speak. It was the first time he’d spoken the entire time he was at the station, and his first words were how he was ‘sorry.’ The sharpness of her smile dropped as she heard that line turn into a mantra, ingrained in every convulsion. His body tensed with every shake as if it prepared to be hit, hands spread around his eyes to stop the tears as if he would be punished if he didn't.

“Oh no, no no… don’t cry, there’s nothing to be sorry about. You didn't do anything wrong.”

_See how sorry he really is, Mordy._

Arthur anxiously stared as he realized the woman in blue began to approach him. With every inch she made, his breathing became more volatile and uneven, sending himself further into a skittish frenzy of apologies as a new trail of tears ran. 

“P-pl-please.” He squirmed away from her again, this time shrinking back into an even smaller ball as she sat next to him. He covered his eyes, frantically rubbing away the tears. “I-I’m s-sorry.”

The fabric shell he had cloistered himself within had stretched from his spasm once it first came down. He tensed once it first hit him, readying his body for the blow. Yet, there was no kick to the side, no bottle coming wrathfully down, only a gentle layer of fleece. 

She wasn’t going to hurt him?

Arthur laid there, waiting for whatever would happen. All he heard was breathing, softer than his own. His body relaxed back to a less nervous state as he pulled the blanket over him, scrambling to pop his legs from his shirt. They, too, were greeted by the soft, woolly covering. There were no holes or bed bugs, with no surprise thwack coming. Only fresh, clean, and soft sheets.

“You know, the world’s a scary place out there but not everyone wants to hurt you.”

The voice sounded different this time. Muffled, but not by the blanket he was under. He poked his head from within the soft safety, wrapping himself up further as he looked at the officer. She pulled off one of her two golden pins, sliding the clip closed. It was a star, five-cusped with writing that was intangible from where he was laying.

“My father gave me this star when I was younger.” She lightly laughed, fumbling it through her fingers. “He always said that it would protect me from the bad people out there, and as long as I’ve worn it they’ve never been able to put me down again.”

The blanket slid down Arthur’s arms as curiosity got the best of him. He inspected the badge, getting closer to the woman. The writing was faded, and his inability to form words from what he could see didn’t help either. All he knew was that it was something special if it had been kept for such a long time. 

She smiled as she saw the boy move. Her hand wavered, ushering Arthur to take it. “I think you’ve needed it more than I ever have.”

He raised himself up on his knees as she gently cupped the star in his hands. Arthur looked at it before glancing up momentarily, only to check the badge once again as hers pulled away. It was real. 

“Having that badge’ll make you a sheriff,” she said affectionately, nodding as Arthur pointed to himself. “No bad guys ever want to deal with the sheriff.”

Arthur couldn’t help but smile slightly as he looked down at the star. The bad guys always did lose to the sheriff at the end, didn’t they?

“You can call me Sheriff Constantine, and we’ll call you ‘Sheriff…’” She leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. 

He was taken back by the remark, gulping. No one had ever asked for his name or wanted to know it. He tried his best to stand still, remembering every syllable. “A-Art-thur.” 

“Sheriff Arthur, huh? Has a nice ring to it.” 

Arthur silently agreed. He’d never thought of his name having a nice ‘ring’ to it, but if she said so it must have. 

“Well, Sheriff Arthur, you’re going to need all the rest you can get,” Constantine said, patting her knees as if the decision was final. There was no objection from Arthur, who had only looked down at the badge in his hands before nodding. “If you ever need me, just knock and ask, alright?”

He nodded, watching as Constantine walked to the door. She knocked, waiting for the lock to press and the door to open, only for her to turn back around as that smile took the shape of a somber grimace. “There’s going to be a lot of battles ahead of you, Sheriff Arthur. No matter what, I know you’ll come out just fine.”

Arthur pulled the blanket around his shoulders once again as the door finally closed. He didn't know what she meant by what she said, but he wasn't alone now and that's what mattered.

The golden star felt cold in his hands as he squeezed it one last time before placing it next to him. They'd think twice before doing anything if they saw that, and that lady would come if he ever needed her. He wrapped himself up in a tight cocoon of fleece, watching as the ceiling lights buzzed off.

Maybe he was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Happy ending! Arthur finally gets some sleep! Also, his badge is there! 
> 
> Sorry if it looks rushed because I really didn't want to go hardcore into the child abuse and trauma aspects, and I apologize to anyone that was affected negatively by what I wrote.
> 
> There's a part 2 that is in the works, but I have no idea if I'm actually going to finish it because I don't ever like what I write, including this, and I'm supposed to be writing another fic on a different site (I am a traitor). I just really wanted some Arthur backstory from like what happened to his parents and that kind of stuff, but do we get that canon? No, we just get death and sadness.


	2. Kingsmen Aren't Quitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And yet, the moment it was all thrown at him he lost it. That deep-rooted scowl he always carried just finally cracked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is considerably small compared to what I'm used to writing, and I don't know how Lance would act, but it is what it is. I also accidentally split this chapter into 2 because I'm bad, so now there's now 3 parts, 4 max

Driving to this god-forsaken town took four hours out of his busy life, and during the entire time he waited without an explanation as to where the bail papers were. He wouldn’t have gone through with it if Mordred weren't family. He kept telling himself that he would just barge in, say he wasn’t going to bail his brother out with no ifs, ands, or buts. There would be no discussion, and he would just get up and leave, driving away while rotting inside for all he cares.

And yet, the moment it was all thrown at him he lost it. That deep-rooted scowl he always carried just finally cracked.

“He’s really conked out, ain’t he?” Lance chuckled under his breath, peering through the glass.

Unfortunately for him, Arthur sleeping was an adorably cute scene to see. He watched the leg unceremoniously kicked itself outwards as the boy mumbled incoherently, returning to rub themselves together as if he were scratching an itch in his dreams. The blanket was already halfway on the floor, the only part remaining on the bed was stuck behind the boy’s shoulder as it dangled off.

“No one wanted to wake him up after he fell asleep,” Constantine said, smiling dully. “That’s as calm as he’s been since he was brought in.”

Lance could feel the gulp forming in his throat. The vanilla portfolio was still on the table, the plucked papers still crisp and new, reaching out from the sides. He didn’t even know the boy, other than that he might be his nephew, and yet just stammering on from word to word in that report caused his heart to fall faster than it ever had before.

“So, what’ll happen to him?” Lance asked, needing an answer to those manifesting thoughts of ‘what if’ he had never come. If he never answered that call. If he just turned it all down and never saw the boy again.

“Well, he’ll be taken by the adoption agency tomorrow morning.” Constantine wistfully looked down, eyes mimicking her reading the report she received on what happens to children given up at Arthur’s age. She took in a deep, calming breath. “And from there, he would be moved between homes that eventually give him up or he’d be placed in an orphanage until he comes of age and is forced out.”

The lump grew larger and stronger as it rushed down in a forceful swallow. Lance knew that by the time the boy comes to age, he would be thrown out into the world alone. Just looking at the boy’s peaceful breathing tugged at every string of the heart he once thought was cold and unfeeling, twinging at the fact that this might be the last time Arthur would ever have a good night’s rest if nothing was done.

“C-couldn’t another Kingsmen ‘ave taken him in?” Lance coaxed, hoping that there was someone else could take the weight off his shoulders. He didn’t even notice the stutter, something he hadn’t done since his mother’s funeral. “Percy and Gareth? They have kids. They’d take him, why wouldn’t they?”

“You were the only one to respond to our calls,” Constantine cynically admitted. “No one else wanted to come for him. Not when they heard he was—”

“Mordred’s kid?”

She nodded. “They said they didn’t want to risk having someone that could grow up to have that kind of temper.”

“Temper?” Within an instant, all that chilling numbness Lance bragged about burned like fire. He threw his arms up defiantly, slamming his fists down on the table. Constantine haphazardly glared at the stout man who had so vigorously decided to make an example out of the metal table. “The only temper they’ll ever see with that boy is mine for tossing him aside like that! Why, when I see those not-worth-spit—”

“Quiet.”

It was more of an order as Constantine put her finger to her lips. Lance began a low growl in return until she pointed to the room next to them, the messy, golden hair tranquilly resting on the prison-style bed. “You’re going to wake him up and the first thing he’ll hear is your yelling. Do you want that?”

“I— no.” Lance’s attitude dropped with a defeated sigh. The boy’s face looked a lot like his when he was younger, the same golden-yellow hair with that crest of brown in the front. He could feel his heart physically begin to thaw more than it already had as he saw Arthur sluggishly pull the blanket up from where it was, snuggling it between his arms. “It's just, how could they say that without ever meeting the kid? He wouldn’t harm a fly.”

Constantine didn’t need to force a laugh as she saw the shorter man defiantly protect Arthur’s image. “You’ve never even met him, and you just know he is?”

“Oh, so I gotta meet him to know he’s a good kid?” Lance said guardedly. He pointed to the sleeping boy before effusively continuing, “you just look at him and tell me he doesn’t look like a good kid. We Kingsmen are good judges of character, and if yer looking for a second opinion y’can just ask me again.”

“Then did you not want to meet him?” Constantine asked, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

“Gah!” Lance sat down hard on his seat, throwing his head into his hands. “I’ve had no time to think and ye just pushed this on me! I was told to come set bail for that deadbeat and now yer asking me to take care of a kid? I’m just a mechanic!”

“There never is enough time to decide, is there?” Constantine said wryly. She stood up, walking over to the metal door that separated the rooms before looking over to Lance. “I’ll take care of the hard part in waking him up, all you have to do is talk to him and sign some papers.”

“I’m not fit to be a—” the door closed, ending Lance’s message. He swore under his breath, looking on as Constantine serenely gaited towards Arthur.

This was an important moment and she gave him seconds to decide! He'd never wanted a kid before, swore off marriage and the whole shebang after finding out the only thing he ever wanted was to run his own repair shop. That's what he did: ran a repair shop. Not take care of kids because they were abandoned by their good-for-nothing, born-sorry, honorless...

“Sheriff?” She said it in a sweet whisper, “you need to wake up, Sheriff.”

How was he going to be a father? He worked on trucks and vans for a living, covered in sweat and oil from a hard days work! He didn't take care of children, they weren't even allowed in the shop when their parents brought them with, and he'd threaten the little demons off from the vicinity if they weren't there with a paying customer.

Lance sighed as he felt the ball and chain be placed on him from behind the glass as Arthur moved to rub his eyes, slowly uncurling himself from the tangled mess of blanket he had wrapped himself in. The boy sat up groggily, blinking before closing his eyes again and shaking as his body felt the cold air.

Maybe it would only be for a while, Lance thought. They say kids grow up fast, and maybe Arthur would be grown enough to leave in a year or two? And, well, he's always wanted an assistant in the shop, someone to carry on his legacy of being the fastest auto-mechanic in all of Tempo, Texas. And maybe some help around the house wouldn't be bad either. He wouldn't even have to pay the kid in anything other than room and board.

“Sheriff Arthur?” Constantine whispered louder this time, hands on her knees as she bent over to see him. She beamed as the yawning smile formed on the boy’s face. “Did you sleep well?”

Even sitting down, Lance could feel the world around him float. His own heart thumped louder as the blanket was pulled over the boy's thin shoulders, Arthur taking it and wrapping it around himself once again. He swore to himself as the boy's head drooped down, a mumbled 'mhmm' was all that was offered before slipping back out of consciousness. Constantine smiled, combing up his free tufts of hair that were matted down from a well-deserved nap with her hands. 

What did kids even eat? He hadn't been one since he was young, and even then he could barely remember that! They can't have a beer, but maybe Arthur could coming from Mordred’s. Then there was the amount of money he’d be spending on food, but maybe he’d have someone to talk to?

“You need to wake up, Sheriff. Someone’s here to see you.”

Arthur's head perked back up in confusion, his heavy-eyed glance to Constantine found no answers.

Lance stood up, holding his nose high in the air. Damn it, that boy was a Kingsmen, and as much as he didn't want to admit, even if he could blame the heat of the moment later, he was won over. The boy didn't even do anything! And, by God, Kingsmen don’t raise quitters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What would a middle-aged man who works alone in his own mechanic shop do when confronted with the fact that if he doesn't do something, his nephew that he just met would be pushed into the adoption system? This, I guess? I don't know.
> 
> (This is probably going to get edited before the final chapter comes out because that's just who I am as a person now)


End file.
